Snippets for the Memory Box

September 5, 2011 @ 8:09 am | Filed under: Assorted and Sundry, Family, These People Crack Me Up

I decided to poke through my archives to see what I’d written about Labor Day in years past. Got as far as this entry from September, 2005—I missed Labor Day that year; it seems we recovering from one of baby Wonderboy’s surgeries—and am now grinning over this tidbit about then-four-year-old Beanie:

The other day she was stuck in a loop of “The Old Gray Mare.” After about forty repetitions, she turned to me and said, “What’s ain’t?”

I explained. She experimented with the synonym: “The old gray mare just isn’t what she used to be, isn’t what she used to be…nope, ain’t sounds better.”

This, my friends, THIS is why I blog. I would never remember this stuff otherwise.

In that spirit, a few recent moments I want to hold on to (some tweeted and/or Facebooked, but they’ve already scrolled away into oblivion there):

* the way Huck can be swung right out of a cranky mood by the magical words, “Where’s the big rig?”

* I love that when my kids play school, it involves each “student” telling the “teacher” what he or she wants to learn, and the teacher runs around the house gathering stuff to make it happen.

* Rilla: “Mommy, how did you get to be so good at blowing up balloons? I thought you were a writer, not a balloon-blower-upper.”

* Today’s morning glory blossom-count: twenty-five. Or, if you ask the two-year-old: “One, two, fee, TEN!”


    Related Posts

  • And here we are in August.
    And here we are in August.
  • Sunday morning
    Sunday morning
  • Crazybusy Week
    Crazybusy Week
  • I know, right?
    I know, right?
  • Saturday in These Parts
    Saturday in These Parts

Comments

One Response | | Comments Feed

  1. My oldest daughter used to play school with the little girl who lived next door and went to public school. I still remember the look of sheer bewilderment on that girl’s face the first time they were playing and she was playing the teacher. She sweetly told my daughter that it was time for history. She directed my daughter to a seat at our child-size table and prepared to hand her a “history book” and an assignment. My daughter chirped, “I’d rather do math now” and proceeded to sprawl on the floor on the other side of the room with paper and pencil to do some math problems. It was so hard not to laugh– my daughter didn’t even have a clue that this sort of behavior simply doesn’t happen in school and the little girl from next door had no idea how to proceed.

    Homeschoolers are frequently lost in their own joyous ways of learning while the rest of the world scratches their collective heads and goes, “huh??”